Friday, 6 September 2013

POETRY: Rupert Brooke [1887-1915]

Lust

How should I know? The enormous wheels of will Drove me cold-eyed on tired and sleepless feet.Night was void arms and you a phantom still, And day your far light swaying down the street.As never fool for love, I starved for you; My throat was dry and my eyes hot to see.Your mouth so lying was most heaven in view, And your remembered smell most agony.

Love wakens love! I felt your hot wrist shiver And suddenly the mad victory I planned Flashed real, in your burning bending head. . . .My conqueror's blood was cool as a deep river In shadow; and my heart beneath your hand Quieter than a dead man on a bed.